Oh Mary this London's a wonderful sight
With people here workin' by day and by night
They don't sow potatoes, nor barley, nor wheat
But there's gangs of them diggin' for gold in the street

At least when I asked them that's what I was told
So I just took a hand at this diggin' for gold
But for all that I found there I might as well be
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.

I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed
As to how the fine ladies in London were dressed
Well if you'll believe me, when asked to a ball
They don't wear no top to their dresses at all

Oh I've seen them meself and you could not in truth
Say that if they were bound for a ball or a bath
Don't be startin' them fashions, now Mary McCree
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.

I seen England's King from the top of a bus
Oh, I never knew him though he means to know us
And though by the Saxon we once were oppressed
Still I cheered - God forgive me ! - I cheered with the rest.

You remember young Peter O'Loughlin of course?
Well he's over here at the head o' the Force
I met him today, I was crossing the Strand
And he stopped the whole street wid' one wave of his hand.

And there we stood talking of days that are gone
while the whole population of London looked on
But for all these great powers he's wishful, like me,
To be back where dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea.

There's beautiful girls here, oh never you mind
With beautiful shapes nature never designed
And lovely complexions all roses and cream
But let me remark with regard to the same

That if that those roses you venture to sip
The colors might all come away on your lip
So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waitin' for me
In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea.